


A Better Way to Die

by HonestMistake



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Ignis turned out to be the Mystery Character, Other, Rating May Change, Secrets, Tags May Change, Unrequited Love, hanahaki, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonestMistake/pseuds/HonestMistake
Summary: Everyone has seeds in their heart, little burs of longing just waiting to be watered by heartache. When they bloom their roots dig into your heart and the flowers spread up into your lungs slowly choking your life away. Shields can't afford to be in love that isn't returned, not when the price is so steep and their lives aren't theirs to give.Fill for this prompt on the Kinkmeme: https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=9420939#cmt9420939





	1. Reflections

Of all the ways Gladio pictured dying young slowly choking to death on emotion had never made the list. He had always pictured going down in a blaze of glory. His death an honorable end, one of battle and blood and greatness where his name joined the history books alongside the greatest of his ancestors. He’s never feared death, never shied away from it, he’s a shield and the entire purpose of a shield is to absorb as many blows as it takes to protect its wielder. Death is a reality he’d confronted ages ago, he’s seen it, felt it, even caused it himself, and by the time he’d earned his mark it was woven into his very being. But this, this isn’t the death he’d expected, this slow fade. A shield isn’t meant to be taken out by something as frail as foliage, but here he is crouching over the toilet, the bowl spilling over with hundreds of flower petals all streaked with red. All of them saying the same thing. 

I’m sorry I can’t be with you.

He wipes at his mouth and spits in a halfhearted attempt to clear out the bitter metallic taste. He knows it won’t help, it hasn’t helped since the growth started in earnest, but it’s a habit he doesn’t care to break. He coughs a few more times to dislodge the lingering petals, but exhausted as he is it doesn’t do much more than shift the ticklish slimy feeling around his throat a bit. He leans back and unscrews the lid from his water bottle pouring a bit into his mouth and sloshing the sparkling citrus water around before spitting again, rinsing away the worst of the foul lingering taste. 

He takes a drink this time and sighs in something that’s almost relief before he forces himself to stand. He holds himself up against the sink leaning on his elbows letting his body adjust to the miracle that is breathing again. His chest feels shallow the air trickling through his lungs in a weak stream that brushes against the growth inside with little pinpricks of pain that only threaten to overwhelm him because of how many there are. His legs wobble under him and something almost as bitter as the lingering taste of flowers sinks down over the inside of him like a blanket. What kind of Shield lets himself get to the point where he can barely stand?

Just him apparently.

But he can’t just cut away the growth inside of him, every time he thinks of telling his Dad all he can think about is the long list of his ancestors who died as hollow shells with nothing but scar tissue inside them. There isn’t supposed to be a choice, not for him. Shields are sworn to the crown and nothing comes before the throne not even their lives why should their hearts be any different. He should confess to his father. He should just man up and get the damn surgery. He should just admit to himself that all he’s doing is prolonging the inevitable. 

There’s so many things he should be doing, but he doesn’t. Instead he crouches down and grabs the hand broom and dustpan and sweeps the evidence into a little pile he can flush down the drain with the rest of the mess. He steps back and does another check just to be absolutely sure that all of the evidence is gone. No petals hiding in the ridge under the sink or behind the toilet, none drifting past the shower curtain or under the door. 

He washes his hands as he checks his face in the mirror one last time looking for any remnants that might give him away. There’s nothing left of the flowers but a faint pink stain on his lips and that can be explained away easily enough with a few innuendos and a bit of dodging, nothing he hasn’t done before. But the rest of his body tells a very different story. The mirror strips away the comforting blanket of lies he’d shrouded over himself with the truth laid bare. His skin’s taken on a sickly sheen of gray green, his veins standing out in stark clarity, his eyes dull and listless. He’s a shadow of himself, one that isn’t going to survive much longer. 

He takes a breath and turns the knob on the door letting the mask fall into place replacing his haggard frown with the smug self-satisfied grin he’d taken up as his own shield when he’d first started his training. He’s strong, he’s confident, and no one can ever knock him down and keep him there, as long as he believes that he’s invincible. The bitter taste of flowers lingers to shake his faith, to make him doubt, but he tries to ignore it as he makes his way to the kitchen. He needs something stronger to wash the taste out of his mouth.


	2. Sunflowers

Gladio pauses in front of the door to the kitchen his mask faltering at the sight of light shining from the crack at the bottom of the door. At this time of night when everyone else is asleep the kitchen is usually dead. He’d expected a little quiet, a little time to himself to sort out everything, but now he’ll have to deal with whoever’s on the other side of that door. He clears his throat checking to see if he could feel that telltale tickle that could give him away. His throat protests, sending little spikes of pain that burn down deep into his lungs and almost spark a fit, but he doesn’t feel any petals. 

He steels himself giving the mask time to settle and pushes the door open shoulders slumping in relief as he catches sight of Iris standing on top of a chair futilely reaching for the top of the fridge arms stretched as far as they can go fingers wiggling uselessly. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans into the doorway clearing his throat with a smirk that turns into a grin. "You're supposed to be asleep." 

He smiles at the way Iris jumps in her chair, her body spinning to face him as her mouth parts in a wordless shriek of terror. She wobbles from her precarious perch arms pinwheeling at her sides as she tries to regain her balance. She rights herself and glares at him, hands on her hips leveling him with a patented younger sister glare. 

"And you were supposed to be at training today.” She accuses as she jumps down from her perch, her dark eyes boring into him. 

“But if you don't tell Dad about this I'll tell Dad that you were helping me with my history homework and you know how he's been getting onto me about my grades. As far as he's concerned my education is far more important than a few lost training days. Now hand me the cherries, Dad hid them on top of the fridge again." She chirps voice suddenly saccharine sweet as she makes a grabbing motion toward the top of the fridge with her hands.

"Because you're only supposed to put one on your sundaes and you never put less than five." Gladio says even as he reaches up and easily plucks the cherry jar from the top of the fridge. 

He uncaps the jar with a smooth twist of his wrist and hands it over to her watching in amusement as she grabs it from his hands and shoves her spoon into the jar to push a small pile of cherries onto the top of her ice cream, along with quite a bit of the juice.

"So, what were you doing when you missed training anyway?" Iris asks a faux innocent contemplative look on her face as she digs her spoon into the center of her sundae. 

He rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to the cabinet they keep the bowls in turning only to give her a teasing grin. "Playing hooky." 

"Har har." Iris says flatly her hands on her hips as she leans toward him her spoon brandished at him like a miniature sword. “You wouldn’t get away with trying that with Dad." 

"I wasn't feeling well so I skipped." He shrugs as he pulls his bowl down and grabs a spoon from the drawer, it’s true enough and it should hold up as long as Iris doesn't look further into it.

And of course she does, looking up at him with the kind of sisterly concern that usually melts his heart but now leaves him feeling wrung out and tainted. "You haven't been feeling well a lot lately, shouldn't you just go ahead and tell Dad that you caught some kind of bug. He won't be as upset with you if he knows you're not just slinking off to be lazy." 

Gladio ran his hand through his hair, the nagging feeling that he should tell someone, anyone rising up inside him before he pushed it back down into the shadows again. "Look Iris I just don't want Dad to know that I'm sick, I just need time. If it gets worse I’ll tell him, but for now, it’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Which is stupid." She interrupts with a wry twist of her lips and he gets the distinct impression that she would indeed tell Dad if she thought it would help him somehow. “I think he’d rather know than have you running off to do who knows what at who knows where. What if it turns out to be something serious, what if you don’t get better, what if you end up in the hospital and die?”

He flinches as the picture forms in his head so clearly he can see it like a movie in his mind. The hospital room white and thick with the scent of flowers and disinfectant, his mouth held open in death by a thick layer of petals and stems. His father’s face stoic and unreadable even though the storm inside him breaks through his eyes as he stands over him holding Iris’ hand as she sobs inconsolably. The white sheet being dragged over his face as the Doctor’s speak words of comfort to his grieving family. He shakes off the vision voice heavy as he sighs. "Look just promise me that you won't tell him."

"I won’t.” She says after a long moment her eyes weary with suspicion but there’s honesty in her voice. “But you have to help me with my history homework, I'm not that good of a liar."

"Deal. Now where did you put the ice cream, the real stuff and not the frozen yogurt?" He asks hiding a relieved sigh behind his trademark cocky grin. 

“Behind the frozen peas.” She says before she turns around in her chair to look at him as he scoops out a bowlful for himself, practically bouncing up and down in her chair. “Who do you think I should I do my school project on? I’m stumped but you practically flew through history, so you have to know someone good, but I can’t use anybody that’s already been chosen and all the good one are taken.”

Gladio looks over the toppings that Iris had left out as he thinks tapping his spoon to the side of his mouth. He sprays a coating of canned whipped cream over it to start, then drizzes a bit of chocolate sauce over it before throwing in small handfuls of chopped nuts and rainbow sprinkles, topping it off with two cherries and a conspiratorial wink at Iris. 

Ice cream made he sits in the seat across from her and looks down at the notes she’d left on the table. Most of the names had been crossed off but there are a few remaining that have some merit. Most of the more renown members of the Amicitia bloodline were already chosen their names crossed off, as other students had picked them for the abundance of information they had on them. A few of the names have flowers drawn beside them and the sight of them sends a sour feeling though his stomach. He knows those names from his own studies, knows how each of them had been afflicted with and died from the same disease growing inside him. 

He swallows at the prickling in his throat ignoring it in favor of finding someone for Iris to study, someone who lived a long full life. He spots one name in particular and grins as he looks up at Iris. “I’d suggest Gilgamesh, he’s the first Shield in recorded history and there’s a lot of info to be found if you know where to look. You could even ask Cor, if you can stop stammering long enough to get a sentence out around him.”

“Gladio!” Iris squeals as she takes her notebook and slaps it on his shoulders in a hit that had enough bite behind it to sting. “I don’t have a crush on Cor.”

“You say you don’t, but I’ve seen you blush whenever Dad mentions his name.” Gladio says with a wicked grin as Iris’ face quickly turns a shade of red that almost matches the dark red lines her tartan skirt.

She points at him voice an angry low hiss. “You tell anyone about that and I’ll tell Ignis that you stare at his ass when you think he’s not looking.”

“Fine, I won’t tell Cor now give me a minute to think and I’ll figure out someone who should be interesting enough for you.” Gladio waves her off as he looks over the options and weighs up the pros and cobs of each of them in his head.

“I think you’ve had plenty of time and that goes for both of you.” A gruff voice called out with the kind of tone that made you straighten your posture on hearing it.

Iris and Gladio both jumped turning to look at the source of the voice with wide eyes, their father glaring down at them with his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t as intimidating as he usually was decked out in his pajamas instead of his uniform, but the look on his face more than made up for it. 

“How much did you hear?” Iris asks wilting like a cut flower.

“Enough to know that my children are conspiring to lie to me.” Clarus says arms folded in front of him in what Iris told him she secretly called the ‘confess your sins or pay’ stance.

He points at Iris gesturing for her to sit back down his voice stern but quiet for the sake of the rest of the household. “Iris for the next week you’re grounded, no phone, no hanging out with your friends, and no leaving the house unless you’re going to school or to the library to finish your homework. You’ll also be joining Gladio and I in the training hall every day after school. You want to help Gladio skip out on his training then you can join him.”

He turned to Gladio the look of parental disappointment taking on the disappointed scowl that he often leveled at those he was asked to teach. “As for you Gladio same thing, only in addition to the week of revoked privileges you will be doing extra training to make up for lost time and you will also be assisting Iris with her history homework, just like you promised. unless of course you were telling the truth about being sick in which case you will be going to the doctor in lieu of the extra training.”

“I’m fine.” He says ducking his head down in the vain hope that his Father couldn’t smell the flowers on his breath. 

He should tell him, he wants to tell him, but the emptiness is there looming over him like the noose of the gallows. It’s reaching out for him with wraithlike fingers to drag him down into an abyss. He’s sentencing himself to death by holding his tongue, he knows this, he knows, but the thought of being empty, of having everything that makes him Gladio ripped away is worse somehow. It’s still death, but it’s wrapped up in a shiny new package masquerading as life and he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want to be an empty shell. 

Clarus reaches forward lifting his hand and placing it to Gladio’s forehead, a frown forming on his face a moment later as his hand dropped. “You don’t look fine, you look like something a chocobo ran over and you feel pretty warm.”

Clarus sighs the look of concern only growing stronger his face pinching in the way it always did when he was debating with himself. “I’ll trust you for now, but if it gets any worse you will tell me and when you join us for training you’re restricted to light duty until I believe you’re ready. You won’t be touching that monster sword you like to swing around until I give you the okay and if you start feeling sick stop what you’re doing and tell me. Your health affects more than just you Gladio, so don’t go abusing it." 

“I haven’t been feeling well, but I don’t need to go to the doctor, it’s not that serious.” Gladio says with a forced smile, before he winces his chest roiling with a wave of guilt that presses up against his lungs right along side the flowers already rooted there. The weight of his father’s concerns presses down on him like a sudden increase in gravity and forcing his smile, making it look genuine is almost impossible. 

“If it’s serious enough to make you miss training you shouldn’t brush it off so easily.” Clarus says gently pleading with him to admit that he needs help. 

“I know Dad, but it.” He stopped for a second coughing to clear the sudden tightness in his throat, nearly sighing in relief when no petals came up along with the lump that had choked him. “It won’t happen again.” 

“Just like you two won’t be lying to me again.” Clarus says with a droll tone giving them both a warning look. 

“Just like that.” Iris chirps her voice too cheery to be entirely honest. 

Yeah.” Gladio says after a moment, ignoring the bitter taste rising up the back of his throat. “No more lies.”

“Good.” Clarus smiles letting the role of stern father slip from his shoulders as he seats himself at the table and helps himself to a spoonful of ice cream straight from the almost empty container. “Mind sharing?” 

“Aren’t we in trouble?” Iris asks even as she takes a spoonful of her own, looking up at her dad like he might say ‘no more ice cream’ at any moment.

“Punishment starts tomorrow so you two can enjoy your freedom for tonight.” Clarus says as he reaches out and ruffles her hair with a grin. “Now tell me about this history project of yours.”

Iris perks up as she begins her rundown of the assignment holding out the paper as for their father to see as she talks. Her hands move as she speaks every word punctuated by a wave of her fingers as she bounced in her chair excitement bleeding off of her as she basked in the rare light of their perpetually busy father’s attention. Gladio watches in the background as he eats his ice cream grateful to have his Father’s laser focus off of him for the moment. The ice cold helps to soothe his throat but does nothing for the pressure sitting in the center of his chest or the foreboding feeling blooming alongside his flowers.


End file.
